Sacred Awakening

02/07/2024

Electrified by life
Exonerated by love
Absolved by faith
Made immaculate by hope
She stared into the abyss of her adventurous past,
Which was chock-full of wildly extravagant beasts -
Intoxicating moments
That once left her feeling as though she were floating…
Upon endless beds of orchids,
With fox-fur draped entirely around her,
In silken gowns that rested so delicately upon her svelte form
That gave her a false sense of being protected.
Enchanted,
Enthralled -
Bewitched by her own beauty…
Guided by her own guiles,
She enraptured them all.
Entangling herself in an impossible mess
Of bleeding, broken hearts.
Bits of their insides
Strewn through her garden
Like red poppies,
Blooming at night
In a strange, and eerie glory -
Reminding her of her own self-destruction,
And the decimation of so many innocent young men.
Inevitably finding her way
Into a punishing chaos
Where men were her monsters,
Or was it the other way around?
She wasn’t entirely certain anymore.
The past seemed to have a way of shapeshifting,
And recreating itself.
Electrified by life…
Like Frankenstein’s Bride
Electrocuted perhaps,
An amalgamation of body parts
From long-lost lovers,
From carcasses of the walking dead,
Which she gathered in her own zombified trance –
Prancing upon her path
Like some siren of the sea…
Fox in hand
Foxy as can be
Silent in voice
Wailing in spirit
Dying inside
Already dead.
When might she expect to come alive again?
Disassociated.

She was electrified by life…
So much beauty to behold
And yet every bit of it that she managed to grasp,
Slipped right through her hands.
The pink mimosa flower in the Summer
Stood out like paradise on that Brooklyn block
Where she grew up.
The birds of paradise,
Mixed in the bouquet that she once got as a gift…
Delivered to her door on Valentine’s Day.
The inexplicably mythical orchids,
Which she had never known about in her earlier years,
But that were clearly Yoni-like
In their structure.
The reeds that echoed their own longing -
The layers upon layers of flowers
That surrounded her,
As though she were attending her own funeral.
She stared into the abyss,
Her back against some floating, fragrant, unidentified blossoms –
Pale and non-distinct
Like her, in her awkward stage of aging.
She gazed out into the abyss,
Which was filled with the nightmares of her past,
But also, of her own majestic grace…
Of the strength in her own survival.

Her triumphant stance,
Draped in silk,
Striations and shades…
That of the colors of baby’s bare skins -
Innocent within,
Full moon aglow
In a night sky
Streaked with rainbow strands
Of mysterious origin.
Words formed across the pitch-black sky…

She was electrified by life.
She gazed out and away,
While breathing into this moment alone.
Finding her way home.
Knowing that no matter how far gone she might perceive herself to be
That she was indeed,
Home!

Vibrant against the backdrop of her every adventure –
Good & Bad
Wicked and Wondrous…
Fox stood strong at her side,
Looking in the opposite direction,
Making absolute sure
That nobody,
And nothing…
Was coming for her
Except her own delightfully surprising,
Supreme Destiny
Of Rapture.

She was electrified by life
And lulled by its slow buzz
As though honey bees were conjuring up their sweetness
Just for her.
As though stillness had finally settled deep in her soul,
And contentment had finally found its way…
To the surface and depths
Of her still-beating heart. ©
- Francesca Simonelli
2/7/24

Artwork Credit:
Moonlight Meander With A Fox
Mixed Media Textile Painting
By Veronika Olivier
https://www.facebook.com/VeronikaOlivierArtist

01/03/2024

01/01/2024

Circle of Women

Enshrine me with your stories
Shroud me in your nurturing
Envelope me in your loving-kindness
Cradle me within the velvet of your compassion

See me
No matter how invisible I have become
Clutch me in your palm
No matter how much I shrink back.
Retain the whole of who I am
As the cluster of all my many lives splinter into different time-lines

Grab hold of my ankles
When I have fallen upon my knees
And when I am flattened out completely
By life’s brutality.
Ground me in your certainty
Enfold me in your unwavering faith
Wrap your arms around me
When I am flailing
And about to fly off the earth entirely.
Soften yourself
As you press your heart against mine…
When I am supernova
Unable to be touched, or reached, or known
Keep the shape of me in your gaze
When I am shapeless
And misshapen.

Grace over me with your auric field
When I am steeped in my primal scream
Wash over me with your unconditional understanding
As I lash-out uncontrollably
Again
Pierce my impossible walls
As your heart entrains with mine…
Remain steadfast -
As I crumble into a billion, scattered, irretrievable pieces
Of Shattered devastation,
Decimation
Death after agonizing death.

Hold my hand when I am weeping
Hold my soul
When I am dying
Hold my spirit
When I am leaving
Or when I am determined to prolong my own futile wandering –
Deep in the valley of the shadow of death.
Hold my shoulder
When I am lost
Hold my arms when I am straying
Tell me all of your stories
So that I know what inferno you have endured….
And triumphed –
Hold on
Then let go
You know exactly when!

Speak to me of the flames,
Which birthed you anew
Share with me the mythical stories -
That are all so very true,
But far too fantastical for most to believe.
Caress me with a mother’s touch
When I have not known such warmth in eternity.
Remind me of non-sexual affection
So that my body remembers the safety
And support of a benevolent touch.

Keep me within your gaze
When I am suffering beyond any palpable support –
Hold me until I FEEL held
By whatever means your intuition tells you
By whatever ways
Your instinct directs you.
Hold space
Hold tight
Hold softly
Hold strong….
Hold on
Hold long –
Until I come back from the dead.

Illuminate me with your art
Ignite me with your dance
Dance me to death
So that I may be born anew.
Remind me of my strengths
With your songs….
Overlook my self-loathing,
But hold the sunlight close, to where I am darkest
To where my blind-spots remain…
So that I might see it all for myself, when I am ready.

Hold me accountable
Hold me in my highest,
And most divine expression
Sister-friend….
Let me see myself
In your reflection,
So that I may know full-well
Who I am,
In your blessed presence.

Gather with me in Sacred Circle
Sing old songs
And new…
Wail with me
Bellow with me
Scream with me
Screech with me
Cry with me -
Chant with me….
And let our incantations breathe new life
Into our catatonic world
That is imploding from within,
And at war with itself.

Sit with me in stillness
As we plan our quantum leaps
Stomp with me in fury
As we determine what is grand enough to keep.
Crack the whip beside me,
Lasso in the gods into our midst -
Grab hold of all that’s holy,
As we cut from our limbs the shards
And amputate the monstrous appendages
Added by salacious men.

Measure my immeasurable bounty
With unending gratitude.
Gather my infinite fragments,
And help me piece them together
Into constellations foretold
Watch me unfold
Into glistening garland across galaxies
Spanning time-space.
Witness my cells strewn like stars across the sky
Fireworks of the divine…

Sit with me beside this fire,
Where sanctified women congregate -
For the greater good of all…
Made holy by one another
Made whole by having been broken
More times than any of us can count.
Made strong by cherished connections
Made to last by solemn oaths. ©

- Francesca Simonelli * 1/1/24

Art Found Online
Artist Unknown
Please share/credit artist if known.

05/21/2023

Mechanical Heart

My heart
Soaked
In its own blood
Doused with an inextinguishable anguish
Rapt within the inextricable threads of life and death
All knotted up
In my cursed karmic char.
What sooty, mined-coal
Has coated my very soul
So that nothing can shine through
The carcass that I have become?
I once wondered about the living-dead
Somehow, my molten rage
Birthed me into a living-breathing
Still-born babe
Riotous with vengeance –
Blaring the never-ending question….
“Why on earth, am I here?”

My barely beating heart,
In the unreachable depths
Of nature’s untouchable womb -
Pitch Black Oceans,
Suffocate me
In the screaming silence of my own grief.
Affliction
Writhes within me,
Churning my soul from the inside…
Like a very-specific, parasitic creature
Spinochordodes (nematomorph hairworm) -
Infiltrating the body of its grasshopper host
Completely taking over,
Compelling me to leap to my own death….
So that it might begin the cycle anew.

I am entombed
Within the layers
Of eternal coil,
Within the cosmic void,
My own body-mind -
The villain
With whom I battle daily -
At the bottomless bottom…
The Abyssopelagic Zone,
I sink
Somewhere between 13,000 and 19,000 feet below.
The unbearable pressure
Relieves me of life’s obligation
Simply because I cannot move.

I am compostable matter
Buried beneath obscurity,
Beyond extinction.
Glistening with flecks of gold.
I do not float
For the anvil in my chest
Clamps down…
My innards arrested.
My ribs
The very cage
That rattles my soul awake
Inside its own grave -
I do a wild-witch jig
Limbs flailing
And falling off
Like a pin-wheel spun too fast
But with the gruesome disgust of a l***r
Losing body-parts.
I am rotting flesh
While the embers of fury
Embedded in every molecule of my heart
Set me on fire.
A gasoline trail of uncontrollable-burning.

The chains of the earth-bound-dead -
Shake their noises in my wake….
In my face -
Even though my eyes are closed.
And I run-blindly ahead.
These phantoms
Who stay behind
To haunt the living…
Jangle their shackles
Over and Over!
Causing confusion
In the wooded-night.

My knees buckle
My bones break
My gut implodes.
I fall deeper.
Is it possible to be mummified,
While still barely breathing?

My heart -
Calcified.
The once-moist muscle
With Unstoppable Rhythm…
Now, very much mechanical
But whose very mechanisms
Are failing to tick
Or Pulse
Or beat
Or pound.

The ghost crow
Hovers over my abyss -
Cawing
For its murder
Cawing for my resurrection
Cawing for my ascension
Cawing for my transformation.
Cawing to me…
That I am the pearl
With an unforgettable luster
Pried from the slime of the oyster
Whose extraordinary effort
To repel the very likes of me from its grip…
Me, the intruder!
Shaped me into something of a wondrously, enchanting –
Opalescent jewel.

See it there….
Come in close
Closer still –
See!
See the black pearl
In the center of my swollen heart?
Retrieved from the deepest depths.
The bottomless bottom!
Place me now upon your chest…
So that I may hover
Above your phantasmic heart.
© Francesca Magdalena Gauri

Artwork by
Art by Danika J. Fornear

05/21/2023

Two-Minutes

Do you know two minutes?
Maybe you do…
But most likely
You Don’t!

Do you know
Two Minutes?
Up close,
And personal?

Do you know two minutes
Like George Floyd?
Two minutes,
TIMES FIVE!
Two minutes…
That meet us
When we die?

Do you know two minutes....
Forty times over,
Like the Uvalde, Texas
School Children
At Robb Elementary!
And their agonizing parents...
All waiting in the balance
WHILE NOTHING WAS BEING DONE!

The two minutes?
When your best friends get a call
From her husband,
On a Sunday morning -
Thirty minutes after he left for cigarettes…
Only to find out
That he’s not coming back.
The two minutes he calls to say goodbye,
And that he left a note…
And he tells her where she can find it…
And she screams, and pleads for him not to go.
She uses her land-line to simultaneously call the police…
But her husband calmly says through the cell phone,
“It will be too late. I just wanted to say goodbye. I love you.”
The two minutes after he hangs up -
And the two-minute-increments that follow,
Until the police arrive at her door-step…
To confirm his death.

Do you know the two-minutes?
When you get a phone call from the school
About your 13-year-old son…
Saying that he took some pills from another student -
He’s passed out and the ambulance has been called.
Do you know those two minutes?
When you don’t know whether your son will live or die?
And your driving in hysterics to an unknown destination?

Do you know the two minutes?
When you were only a child,
Under-water,
At the community pool….
Holding your breath
To see how long you could stay under?
I’m sure you know those two minutes…
Remember those two minutes…..
You realized just how long you could really hold your breath.
You had a glimpse into what you were made of.

What about the two minutes?
At the skating rink….
Circling around and around,
Stopping in place, to spin
And go backwards
Around and around
Like a ballerina on wheels
Flying around to the music and lights?
You know those two moments.
That’s when you discovered your super-powers.

But do you know the two minutes?
During labor pain
When you reach the point where death just seems like it would be so much better…
Then continuing to push this human from your womb.
Those two minutes following his birth,
When he cannot breathe on his own
Because he was born too soon
And his lungs just don’t work….
And you don’t know if your son
Will live or die?

Or for the Mothers….
Whose babies were still-born?
The horrendous
Two minutes then!

Do you know two minutes?
Like when your Great-Grandfather was told….
That he’d inevitably choke to death from throat-cancer and tuberculosis combined…
So he used his rifle to end his life quickly.
And your Grandmother finds her own father at the kitchen table,
With the insides of his head all over the wall –
Only months after her 18-month-old baby had died,
Having gotten TB from his own Grandpa,
My Grandmother’s own father.

Do you know the two minutes?
When you’re waiting for a red light to turn green
When you’re running late -
And you’re really pi**ed about having to take pause,
For just a moment?
Because you think you’re a machine and you cannot possibly stop
For a single second
To catch your breath.
Of-course you know those two minutes.
You know them well.

What about the two minutes
At the Bank,
Or the Post Office -
Or the Grocery Store?
Yes,
You know those two minutes,
On those endlessly boring lines…
Full of strangers
Who are totally capable of any random act of atrocity
Or terrorism?
And you pi**ed, as can be, because you have places to go.
And can’t stand people anymore.

But do you know the two minutes
When your lover’s hands are around your throat,
Tightly gripped…
Because he genuinely wants to kills you?
And your pregnant,
So you have to fight back
HARD….
But not too hard because you don’t want to lose the baby.

Or when your friend’s daughter,
Gets burned-alive,
With her beloved dog…
After being locked in a storage unit -
By her own boyfriend,
Who just decided that he needed to murder her,
Because she was finally planning to leave.

I hope you don’t know two minutes!
I really hope you don’t.

I hope you know two minutes
In a good way….

In a way that a really-good kiss
Feels,
The very first time.

In a way that Italian, ice-cream tastes…
Gelato -
When you let it linger on your tongue,
Because you have never had anything so creamy and decadent,
In all your long days.

The way a really-good coffee
Goes down,
When you’re dragging your ass so bad,
That you are certain you’ll just curl up and die….
And that magic takes effect,
And you might have just become a Unicorn
Or Pegasus
Or Pegacorn,
Or Unisus!
And rainbows are shooting out…
From every cell in your body,
And you blurt out a song,
A poem,
A painting,
A happy dance…
And you’re as majestic as f**k!
Swirling and twirling
At the speed of humming-bird wings
Atop a flower….
Getting that nectar of life.
At least for that moment.

I pray that you do not know the two minutes,
That break your soul into a million
Irreparable pieces….
But if you do,
I pray that you allow those two minutes –
To remind you of the other kind…
The ones that you really want to last,
Forever.

The smiles of loved ones,
Holding hands…
The laughter of children,
The gentle breeze -
On sweltering hot days.
The shade…
The sun,
The rain,
The trees,
Mountains…
Clouds,
Birds,
Bees,
Butterflies, Dragonflies, Kites.
Wind blasting by…
As you drive fast in a convertible -
Or on a motorcycle -
Or are just running at top speed,
Because you can…..

I pray that you know
Eternity
And Infinity….
In a good way
A heavenly-sweet way-
Inside of two-minutes.

So that when the soul-crushing two-minutes come,
And they will…..
That you can hold your breath…
Long-enough,
Under that rip-tide…
Enough to catch your breath
Back on shore.
And come back home
To Godspace….
Where you are always together
With those you love –
And where no boundaries exist
And where nothing could keep you separate
From all that is
Or ever was….
The two minutes –
Where Heaven on Earth lives.
© - Francesca Magdalena Gauri
5/21/23

Artwork:
Midnight Blues Painting
Pracheta Banerjee

10/26/2022

CRONE

Embrace the winding path, From Mother to Crone. Be willing to untangle the brambles of true sexuality from the world's capitalistic version of it. You are departing from that which was created to exploit, control, and objectify.

You are moving now towards a glowing radiance that cannot be captured, held down, painted over, glossed, accentuated by colorful bu****it, obscured, hidden, manipulated or defined. You are no longer obligated to be that which man desires, in order to feel as though you have a place in the world.

Walk upon your past now, as though made simply of fallen Autumnal leaves; knowing that with every reverent step, the compost of your foolish youth makes way for extraordinary, unknown magic. This magic has NOT been within you all along, but that which was conjured from the experience of being, and becoming through all the angst, rage and grief of your humanity.

What awaits is an unfathomable shapeless shape. It is foreign to the parts of you who were convinced that your body defined you. And that rigid, inaccurate summary of value, named by size, weight, measurements, which were dastardly entangled with your sense of worth, are now rotting, in a good way, beneath your bare feet and supple bones.

You are gentle, hearth-fire now, with wisdom-stories a plenty, and ludicrous ones as well. There is no need to burn the village down again. For it was already decimated, in the ways that new worlds require, and new ways of being are born. Flicker now, like a single flame, empowered with the knowing of how much light a solitary candle can bring, and continue to multiply.

Open yourself to the crumbling of youthful beauty, to reveal your divine essence. It is time to shine with an ancient, replenishing, earth-like-vitality of immeasurable proportion and potency. It is time for the indescribably glorious and graceful elder within to step forth in full force, and flow in a lustrous glow as robust as full-moon herself, on a dark, crisp, starry night. © - Francesca Magdalena Gauri

Art Found on Pinterest

10/09/2022

Ode to Rock
10/9/22

I met a rock
On my walk of shattered illusions
On the early eve of October
Full-Moon.
I would have no comprehension of time
At all
These days….
Had it not been for the glowing sphere in the sky last night.
Reminding me
Of the marching on of time.
Incessant
Swift
And all the while painfully slow.

I held rock
Ever-so-gently
Shifting it to and fro -
As the setting sun
Lowered itself just so…
A spotlight
Upon the tiny but many, glistening jewels
Embedded intricately into the vast, rough gray
Of jagged surface,
As though the very liquid of lunar shimmer
Had been slathered with feathered brushes
Upon its face.
I placed the rock upon my heart
Seeking its pulse of divine intelligence
Knowing its telepathic wisdom
Could permeate my garments of cloth and skin,
And reach my soul.
It told me of its wondrous joy and grief,
Silently buried within its geography
Sedimentary in kind
And quite modest indeed
It would not allow me to capture its sparkling essence
On camera
It was not interested in selfies
Or fame of any sort
It did not need to be known
Or seen
Only acknowledged in this moment
As an immediate pathway
For me….
To enter heavenly realms
Right here on earth.
No matter the devastation
No matter the shattered illusion
No matter the wax and wane
Rock remained
Steadfast
Grounded
Illuminated only for those who sought the brilliance within.
Only shining to those,
Who dared to look down
And dig with bare hands
For buried treasures
In the entombed debris of our lives.
“Don’t be afraid of the dark”
Rock said
“Do not fear the depths of the earth.
Dive down, chest first
Press yourself into the mud
And allow yourself to be as you are.
Only those with open hearts
Will detect your presence as it truly is…
And you, theirs.
It is time to become obscured
To those who might exploit you…
While continuing to flash your silent signals
To those with whom synergy awaits.”

I placed rock upon my altar
With permission of course…..
Beside nest, apples and wood.
Nothing could be more sacred in this moment
Than plain, perfect rock…
Serrated and simple
But as rare and majestic as crown jewels –
It’s serenade, hushed and tangible at once
Pouring melodious truths into my soul
With its inexplicable canticle of holy gospel. ©
- Francesca Simonelli

07/25/2022

To be that beautiful...
What would it mean?
How would it feel?
To have such perfect genes?
To be that exquisite.
To be that insanely gorgeous?
It seems like I might have known -
Turning heads,
Wherever I'd go.
Cat-called
From every direction
Hollered at
By grown men
Driving fancy cars,
Offering up the stars.
Followed
By random pedestrians,
Walking home from the butcher
Or bakery...
Eyes flashing
Tongues flicking
Jaws dropping
Pelvis bulging
Name-tossing...
Construction workers,
Suits
Bus drivers
Cab drivers
Even...
Men walking with women
Arm in arm.
Guys at the gym,
At the bus stop
On the train
Crossing the street
Entering a shop
Exiting a store
Window-shopping
Inescapable taunting.
That my twelve,
Thirteen,
Fourteen,
YEAR OLD SELF
Initially thought was cute.
But that I would soon learn,
Was a life-long curse.
"I look so much older."
I thought to myself.
"I look like a grown woman."
I silently insisted.
But NO!
ABSOLUTELY NOT!
I was obviously
Still a child.
And every single one of those men
KNEW IT,
Just by looking at me.

Now, I am invisible
Made to disappear
Like the lady on stage
By the Magician's hand.
Isn't it always the men
Who decide?

Finally, I can walk
From point A
To point B
Without having to constantly
Be on HIGH ALERT.
Without having to perpetually
Look over my shoulder
And around
And Back.
Finally, I do not exist
For their lustful gaze,
Or to entertain
Their perversions
And fantasies.
Finally I vanished into age,
Youth forever washed away -
Ignorance along with it.
And now I watch
The young women
All shiny and bright
On the stage of life
For the salivating dogs,
Like tiny...
Innocent kittens,
Playfully swatting their toys,
Scrambling to arouse -
The BIG BOYS.
To capture
Their curiosity,
To keep their attention
Anyway they can.
To attract
Any
And all onlookers,
Bewildered.
Mindlessly entertaining
The twisted,
Insatiable fantasies
Of older men-boys
Who may never have a shred of wisdom
Or an ounce of good sense,
But who would chase a child
Up an electric fence
Just to have their carnal needs met.

My prayer for the girls;
To be girls while they are girls.
To hold their innocence close,
Like a precious kitten
Left to die among the wolves.
To succeed in setting boundaries,
And claiming their space!
So that male-dogs
Cannot maul them,
Like bitch's on a breeding ground.

My prayer is pretty simple;
That girls take their time to grow,
And in their own natural time,
Grow to be women,
Women who know their worth
Their essence
And their truths,
Women who lead this world.
Without giving a s**t
About the fountain of youth.
Women who age
Without obsession
Or degradation.
Women who value wisdom
Over beauty.
Women...
Who are women
Without the measuring tool of men.
- Francesca Magdalena Gauri

07/22/2022

Fragility
Thriving
Impenetrable strength
Fallen
Petals
Glowing
Thread-thin legs
Crawling
Translucent wings
Resting
Bulging eyes
Watching
Perspective
Prayer
Inhale
Exhale
Asking
Begging
Pleading
Commanding
Cowering
Running
Treading
Hovering
Gliding
Sliding
Watching
Gazing
Eyes open
Eyes closed
Unified
Separate
Magnetizing
Repelling
Reliving
Retelling
Sharing
Withholding
Extending
Withdrawing
Expanding
Contracting
Opening
Closing
The pause
The reflection
Looking forward
Glancing back
Leaping ahead
Landslide
Layers
Surface
Foraging through
Forging on
Life
Death
Desire
Dispassion
Love
Loathing
Light
Dark
Yin
Yang
Ebb
Flow
You know
Pay attention
Follow your own soul.
- Francesca Magdalena Gauri

07/21/2022

When life leaves you black and blue....

Life left me black and blue
Battered and bruised,
It left me for dead -
Barely able to move.
It didn't matter that I still had feet,
For they ached so badly
That I could hardly stand upon them.
My soles
As though someone had taken a baseball bat
To them, bashing them
And me....
Into submission.
I surrendered,
As I do
When nature comes calling.

Life sucked me up
Into its vacuum
The unending black hole
Of perpetual agony.
It pulverized me,
As if to serve some wrathful god
My flesh for feasting.
Maggots vibrating through my bones,
Eating away at what little remained.
My brittle soul wondering when...
The torment would end.

Hornets and wasps
Yellow jackets and plump carpenter bees -
All around me.
Buzzing about the ground
Where I was slowly decaying,
Making nests from wet leaves, and sodden earth.
Angry in their own ways.
Piercing anyone who dared to approach.
Buzzing incessantly
Like the pain in my vanishing heart.

"Stay wild"
They said....
But "Wild" left me for dead!
With three sons to raise on my own
Across three decades.

I might have doubled my pack of coyotes,
Or cubs
Had abortion not been legal.....
I'd not have survived six children.
Never mind the miscarriages
That might have required D&C's.
I'd not have made it into my fifties alive at all.
Motherhood devoured me.
Devours me still.
Nobody dares speak of how it wreaks havoc
On the psyche,
And the soul.
Nobody dares make mention
Of how much life force
It strips away
And how much it takes.
Without the presence
Of the village
Or the fathers.

Life left me black and blue.
Battered and bruised.
It took every poetic notion
From my body.
It left me for dead
With only ghost stories
Of haunted lands
That don't even really exist.
It left me crawling
Away from the fantasies
Perpetuated in all of our lives...
My skin peeling away from my muscles.
My muscles bubbling in the cauldron,
Mixing with fat
And the tough, scarred parts,
That won't pull away from the skelton.
The parts that only wrathful gods could tear into
With their blood-dripping fangs.

Life left me black and blue
Void of all the other colors.
Absent of vitality
Without any residual wisdom.
Only baffled into silence....
Where I sat seething in my own
Fury.
I lied dead for what seemed an eternity.
Like composting leaves,
Two seasons after they'd fallen.
Still lingering
As though nature wanted to prolong the process.
I stared up
At the tree guardians
Breathing in their strength...
Memorizing their whispers,
Their insights,
My funeral song.
Their life force entering my essence -
As I began to float in between worlds.
As though they carried me across the River Styx.

And then
A fluttering of black and blue.
An optical illusion I assumed.
Black and blue,
As I had never glimpsed before -
Swam around me
As I metamorphosed in the "in-between"...
It would not leave me,
For an hour or more.
Until I recognized its power
As my own.

Black and blue
Told me
The deepest abyss
Holds the highest of truths.
And in that moment
I was indeed
Reborn.
- Francesca Magdalena Gauri

10/21/2021

Learning to Fly
When you really do not even want to,
And you don’t have any wings…
Nor the will
Nor the energy needed…..
Can be tricky indeed.
At least Icarus reached a certain height
And achieved flight
Before the hot wax
Let loose the feathers his father borrowed
To make those magnificent wings.
Escape might have worked momentarily -
But fly too close to the sun,
Get burned for sure,
Guaranteed.

Learning to Fly….
When you have absolutely no interest
In taking to the sky
Because you are far too busy
Trying to survive
Naked
Alone
With a caged mind
Making every sincere effort
To walk on water….

Are those trees growing
From this cascading ocean?
Or are those dead branches,
A mere hallucination?
Am I losing my balance,
Or steadily ascending?
I have seen far greater miracles
Than these…
I will just keep going.

Learning to Fly
Is no easy feat
For those with only skin, bone
And a good deal of fat…
Without wings
Or feathers
Or strings
Or propellers….
How ever
Can I learn to fly?
My life has gone completely awry.
Where I once had stars in my eyes….
My hopes, my dreams, my imagination,
My will, my desires…
Have all run dry.
Yet somehow
I am quite suddenly
Learning to Fly.

Learning to Fly
Against all odds
Defying nature
And my own limitations…
The impossible
The insurmountable
The impassable
The unattainable
The inexecutable
And irreparable….

Overcome
Superceded
Transcended
Managed
Realized
Resolved
Carried out
Worked out
Entirely solved.

Learning to Fly
Wasn’t that bad,
Once I realized I never needed wings at all….
Just the mind to believe….
The heart to conceive
The hands to weave,
The openness to receive
The ability to retrieve,
The magic I had lost along the way.

Learning to Fly
Didn’t mean that I would soar like birds…
Or like a gigantic passenger plane
Or even like a paper plane.
It merely meant that I would do my part,
As divinely guided…
While leaving the impossible rest…. to God;
Then suddenly,
Quite unexpectedly –
I would find myself
Like a dragonfly,
Glistening against the backdrop
Of a stupendous and marvelous scene…
A terrifying yet all enchanting,
Surreal-scape of dreams -
And there I was,
Smack-dab in the middle.
Naked
Alone,
With a contained mind…
Entirely capable.
Making a sincere effort
To keep going
Upon the water
Where I am walking.

So here I am
Heavier than before
Yet somehow lighter than ever.
In my release
I am set free…
Grounded enough for take off
Intuitive enough…
To navigate the unknown terrain ahead. ©

- Francesca Magdalena Gauri
Artwork by Anne Lyhne
https://www.facebook.com/annelyhneart